


When Love makes felt the peace he brings

by attaccabottoni



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 02:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21330391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attaccabottoni/pseuds/attaccabottoni
Summary: "So, did you imagine this happening when you woke up? Because I sure didn’t."
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Kudos: 95





	When Love makes felt the peace he brings

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Convivio (The Banquet)" by Dante Alighieri.

This wasn’t the brother that he knew.

Time was that Dante could easily tell apart which part of his brother he was dealing with, but this Vergil was entirely different from the ever distant figure in memory.

He was not chasing power, nor was he fighting Dante to win.

This Vergil was here for the sake of wanting to be with him.

There were few things so precious to Dante, and nothing else that felt like his hands were not up to the task.

He held onto his brother like his life depended on it, and his brother was letting him. He couldn’t tell if the sweat that made things slippery came from his palms or from the smooth skin in his grip, but here Dante was, with his hands on Vergil’s waist. He was reeling from heady disbelief. The next apocalypse could be starting right outside the window, but he would not turn from his brother being remade anew in front of his eyes.

If anyone else had the enjoyment of seeing Vergil throw his head back in abandon, Dante would like to put his hands on their throats. But not as much as he liked to see Vergil repeating the motion each time Dante drove into him.

His prowess from years of fighting was the one thing that prevented his nerves from overloading from the sensory input. Hovering over was Vergil’s scent, hitting him with the force of a bullet to the head. Echoing around was the pace of Vergil’s breaths, deepening and increasing with Dante’s thrusts. On his face were Vergil’s hands, touching him like Dante was fragile and everything he ever wanted. There was not a single thing about their closeness now that he would not hoard as acquisitively as a dragon of lore.

Whenever their eyes met, Dante felt in his body every muscle clench with pent up sobs and every bone light up with savage tenderness.

He tried not to let aggression resonate in his movements, but each time it did, Vergil dove for his mouth with such hunger that made Dante want to break open his own chest in his eagerness to help Vergil sate himself in him.

Vergil said his name in a voice indistinguishable from terror or pleasure. What stopped Dante from doing the same was his determination to wring out more from his brother, right before their limbs and spines gave in and collapsed together with finality.

* * *

The sunlight on the ceiling indicated it was past noon already, and Dante hasn’t even had breakfast yet.

Dante made sure he could manage levity in his tone before he spoke. “So, did you imagine this happening when you woke up? Because I sure didn’t.”

Vergil gave out an annoyed huff. Given their fraught history, it still managed to be a soft gesture coming from him. Dante held back the urge to smother his brother with kisses. “If I had thought you were capable of planning anything, I would have suspected you meant to fall on top of me when I attempted to throw away that week old pizza you so desperately wanted to save from its fate among the trash.”

He shrugged to hide his internal amazement. “My morning problem just happened to land on yours. Wasn’t really thinking this was how they were going to solve themselves, but here we are.”

“It would be that simple, wouldn’t it?”

It wasn’t. Both of them knew that. Despite what awaited them beyond the bed, he let the wry wistfulness in Vergil’s voice settle over them like a blanket.

Dante turned to face his brother, placing a palm over his chest. “Tell me this is real.”

“Foolishness,” Vergil whispered against his lips before closing the gap between them. Nothing but the sound of that word was sweeter to Dante for long.


End file.
